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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24188437">i've been needing you (to let go)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), As One Does, Crying During Sex, Established Relationship, Kink Discovery, Light Angst, M/M, Middle Aged Dudes, Multi, My Kink-to-Sappiness Ratio Is 1:3, Omorashi, Only A Little Bit And It's Resolved, Piss, Threesome - M/M/M, Unconditional Love, Under-negotiated Kink, Watersports, Wetting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:21:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,633</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24188437</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The entire mess is Bill’s own fucking fault, as most things are.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon/Stanley Uris, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Mike Hanlon/Stanley Uris</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>64</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i've been needing you (to let go)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>so uh yeah there's gonna be pee. i'd apologize but i'm not actually sorry</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The entire mess is Bill’s own fucking fault, as most things are.</p>
<p>If he were a different, less awkward person, he wouldn’t have thought twice about turning down the director’s offer to walk him out to his car – but he <em>isn’t</em> a different person.  He’s Bill Denbrough, people-pleaser extraordinaire who never learned to voice his own needs, and he finds himself following the man out into the parking garage instead of going where he really needs to: the fucking bathroom.  He’s been running around on the <em>Black Rapids</em> set half-crazed all day, revising lines that aren’t working and giving opinions on set pieces and categorically <em>not</em> excusing himself to piss.  There was just too much to do.</p>
<p>Bill doesn’t head for the gents’ until everyone’s finally dismissed for the day, his bladder aching and making him wince.  He can hear Eddie’s high-pitched, disgruntled voice in the back of his mind – <em>that’s how you get infections, jackass!</em> – and it makes him laugh under his breath despite the tingling urgency running down his spine.  God, he has to fucking go.</p>
<p>So, of course that’s when the director crosses paths with him, strikes up small talk, and offers to walk him out.  And Bill, like an awkward, people-pleasing idiot, says yes.  The thought of telling some Hollywood bigshot that he has to pee is just too embarrassing to entertain.  He’s a grown man – he can hold it until he gets home.</p>
<p>But fifteen minutes later going thirty over the speed limit with his hand jammed between his legs, Bill doesn’t feel like a grown man.  He feels like he’s going to <em>die</em>. </p>
<p>“Almost there,” he gasps out as he turns down his street, sweat beading at his temples.  “Oh god, oh god, oh <em>god</em>!”</p>
<p>He’s already fumbling with his belt as he stumbles in through the front door, eyes locked on the bathroom just down the hallway.  But before he can get more than a few steps into the entryway, Mike and Stan are on him, wrapping him in gentle arms and kissing at his lips, his neck, his sweaty forehead.  He whimpers.</p>
<p>They do this sometimes – jump him as soon as he walks through the door.  He works the longest hours of any of them, at times even spending the night in his trailer on set, so he knows they miss him.  He misses them, too – <em>so</em> damn much – but he can’t do this right now.  If he’s not careful, he’s going to wet his fucking pants.</p>
<p>He tries to tell them as much, shying away from Mike’s giant hands on his waist and pressing the words to Stan’s insistent lips.  “Give me a minute,” he pleads, a little muffled against Stan’s mouth.  “Just—just a sec!”</p>
<p>“Got somewhere to be?” Stan says with a smirk that’s entirely too sexy to be fair.  Despite the agony in his middle, Bill’s dick gives a treacherous twitch in his pants.  <em>Fuck</em>.  He full-body shudders when Stan leans in to scrape his teeth over his Adam’s apple, humming his desire into Bill’s skin.</p>
<p>“Looks like you’re all ready to go,” Mike points out, grabbing onto Bill’s undone belt and pulling it from his belt loops in one fluid motion.  But unlike Stan, Mike doesn’t smirk.  Mike isn’t like that.  He wouldn’t know how to be a bitch about sex if he tried – the man, for all that he’s fucking gorgeous and six-foot-four, <em>makes love</em> to Bill and Stan.  Right now he’s smiling at Bill like he’s precious and it’s making Bill’s entire body tremble for reasons that have nothing to do with his full bladder.  “Couldn’t wait, huh?”</p>
<p>No, Bill <em>cannot</em> fucking wait so he finally bursts out, loud and embarrassing, “I have to pee!”</p>
<p>Bill’s face burns at the admission, feeling young and stupid, but neither of his boyfriends laughs at him.  Instead, they stare at him with wide, blown eyes, Stan’s face going pleasantly pink and Mike dragging in a ragged breath.  The sudden tension in the room makes Bill gulp, heart racing.  “What?”</p>
<p>Stan’s voice shakes when he asks, “How bad?”</p>
<p>“<em>God</em>,” Bill chokes, rubbing his hands nervously over his thighs.  The denim of his jeans feels much too tight.  “<em>So</em> fucking bad, you have no idea!  If I don’t—”  He looks longingly down the hall, wondering vaguely why he’s still standing there.  They aren’t holding him tightly – he could escape, but it’s like their gazes are pinning him in place.  “—I’m gonna piss my pants!”</p>
<p>“No, you won’t,” Stan says and it sounds like a gentle reassurance, but then his eyes flitter to Mike’s for a split second and he adds, firm, “Hold it.”</p>
<p>Bill’s body goes burning hot at the authoritative tone.  When Stan gets bossy, Bill’s never been able to resist.  “H-hold it?” he repeats, voice barely a squeak.  </p>
<p>Stan nods.  “Hold it.”</p>
<p>Then he grabs Bill by the shoulders, pushes him until his back hits the wall, and pins him there with one deceptively slender forearm.  It makes Bill moan in a mixture of arousal and surprise, desire bubbling up in his stomach to battle against the pressing need for relief.  Somehow, despite the confusion and the ache in his bladder, his dick manages to stiffen up, making his jeans go tight.  Oh god, there’s no going back now.</p>
<p>But Stan backs off just for a second.  Just long enough to ask, his voice soft and eyes searching, “Is this okay?  Just say no and you can run off to the bathroom.”</p>
<p>But, truth be told, Bill doesn’t want that.  Standing there with his back pressed up against the wall and his hands twitching nervously for his dick and his boyfriends standing over him, he feels helpless in the best way possible.  He feels small and overwhelmed and, god help him, he likes it.</p>
<p>“It’s oh-oh-okay,” he stumbles out, childhood stutter rearing its ugly head in his desperation.  “I want to.”</p>
<p>Stan’s wicked smirk is back.  “Good,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to Bill’s lips.  “Because Mike’s going to fuck you up against the wall and you’re not going to spill a drop.”</p>
<p>Bill gasps, hand racing down to paw at the crotch of his jeans as his bladder lurches at the idea.  If he wasn’t achingly hard, he’s one hundred percent sure he would have lost it.  “<em>Shit</em>.”</p>
<p>Up until this point, Mike had just been observing with wide eyes and his dick getting visibly harder in his sweatpants, which Bill understands.  Neither he nor Mike are like Stan – where Stan has no qualms about asking for what he wants and expressing his passion, Bill and Mike tend to be much more unsure.  That means that Stan often takes the lead, which neither of them minds in the least bit. </p>
<p>To that end, Mike finally approaches, strong, wonderful hands outstretched to push Bill’s hair out of his face.  “Can I, Big Bill?” he asks, so fucking gentle and so fucking sweet.  He’s beautiful.  “Please?”</p>
<p>Bill shudders, hands flying up to grasp at Mike’s t-shirt, curling into fists.  “God, yes, fuck me!” he cries, suddenly so desperate for it he can barely think straight.  He jolts forward to grind against Mike’s thigh, making them both groan.  “Pl-<em>Please</em>, Mikey…I want you so bad!”</p>
<p>“<em>Fuck</em>, I want you, too,” Mike chokes out, hands skittering from Bill’s jaw down to his shoulders then back up to cup his face like he can’t figure out what to touch first.  “But I gotta—lemme get the—”</p>
<p>“No condom,” Bill says decisively.  “N-Not tonight.”</p>
<p>“Still need lube, sweetheart,” Mike points out apologetically, leaning in to give Bill a dizzying kiss.  “Stan’ll take real good care of you while I run and get it, okay?”</p>
<p>Bill’s too overwhelmed to answer.</p>
<p>Stan <em>does</em> take good care of him, helping Bill peel off his too-tight jeans and pull his shirt over his head, careful to avoid the distended curve of his bladder.  “Fuck, you really need to go, don’t you?” he breathes out almost reverently.  He gives Bill’s dick a couple good jerks to keep him interested, Bill keening in answer.  The fullness of his bladder has dialed everything up to eleven, nerves on fire and senses heightened, and he can feel tears pricking at the corner of his eyes.  “When’s the last time you used the bathroom?”</p>
<p>“Before lunch,” Bill admits, whimpering.  His vision is going wet and blurry.  “There was so much to do at work I—<em>fuck!</em>—didn’t have time to pee.”</p>
<p>“They shouldn’t be working you that hard,” Stan comments off-handedly, the casual tone of his voice standing out in stark opposition to the rapid movement of his hand.  Then he places a sweet, closed-mouth kiss to Bill’s cheek.  “It isn’t very nice making you wait like that.  You don’t have to wait for us, baby, okay?  You won’t be in trouble.”</p>
<p>Before Bill can ask what he means, Mike is back with the lube and they fall together, mouths first.</p>
<p>Bill’s erection flags as Mike and Stan take turns fingering him open and it gets more and more difficult to hold it with every passing second.  “You gotta fuck me!” he cries desperately, tears in his voice as he bears down on their fingers.  “I’m—I’m ready!  Please just—I don’t wanna lose it!”</p>
<p>“Okay, baby.  Okay, I’m here,” Mike says, then hauls Bill up beneath his thighs and shoves him against the wall, pushing inside while Bill hangs on for dear life.  Mike is careful with him as always, going slowly at first so Bill can adjust to the stretch.  God, Bill loves him so much.</p>
<p>The first thrust is nothing short of heavenly, Bill crying out in surprise at the intensity of it all.  He’s so fucking <em>full</em>.  It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before.  “Mikey!” he wails, tears spilling over.  “More!”</p>
<p>“Does it feel good?” Stan asks from somewhere near Bill’s ear.  “God, look at you!  Always so good for us, Big Bill!  Even when you have to go so bad.”</p>
<p>Mike’s rhythm speeds up, making Bill’s head knock against the wall repeatedly, but he hardly notices.  “It’s s-s-<em>so</em> good,” he answers Stan, momentarily finding his words before he goes back to groans and whimpers that he’ll probably be embarrassed about later.  But for now he doesn’t fucking care.</p>
<p>Then Mike hits his prostate and the wave of pleasure that licks up his body brings with it a feeling of urgency so strong, Bill starts to panic.  He can feel the floodgates threatening to open and it terrifies him.  “Oh god, I have to pee!” he shouts like his boyfriends could have possibly forgotten.  Suddenly, none of this seems like a good idea.  He’s going to <em>piss himself</em>.  And probably Mike, too.  “Shit, shit, <em>fuck</em>!  It’s gonna come out!”</p>
<p>“That’s okay,” Stan says comfortingly, hands soothing over any part of Bill he can reach.  Mike has his face buried in Bill’s neck, mouthing at his sweaty skin as he thrusts.  “It’s okay, honey.  You’ve done so well…you can let go now.”</p>
<p>Bill lets out a strangled noise as a few drops of piss leak out, splattering onto Mike’s t-shirt and leaving dark spots.  He sobs at the sight, hand racing down to grip cruelly at his dick.  He’s barely hard anymore, much too desperate to keep it up.  “I don’t—I don’t understand,” he weeps.  “I’m gonna make a mess!”</p>
<p>Mike shudders at that, his grip on Bill’s thighs getting tight enough to leave bruises.  “Do it, Bill,” he moans into Bill’s collarbone.  “You don’t have to hold it any longer, my love.  You’ve been such a good boy, <em>god</em>.  <em>Such</em> a good boy!”</p>
<p>The words unlock something inside Bill and suddenly he’s pissing helplessly, too full to hold back.  He sobs as he goes, shaking apart in Mike’s arms and soaking them both in burning hot wetness.  “I’m sorry,” he whimpers, over and over.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m <em>sorry</em>.  I know you said not to sp-sp-spill, I’m sorry!”</p>
<p>“Oh, baby, you’re not in trouble,” Mike says, his eyes full of soft adoration, and then he comes hard, filling Bill with a different kind of warmth.</p>
<p>Bill and Mike finish pissing and coming, respectively, around the same time and they sink to the floor together, landing in a puddle.  They barely notice, clinging to each other with shaking limbs.  Then Stan is there, too, raking short nails down Bill’s wet belly and murmuring, “You wanna come now, Billy?”</p>
<p>Bill sort of feels like he came already, the relief of finally pissing as heady as any orgasm, but he nods tearfully.  “Yes, please.”</p>
<p>“God, come here, sweetheart,” Stan says, pulling him in, and then he takes Bill’s dick into his mouth, dribbling piss and all.  It’s over embarrassingly quickly and Bill cries the whole way through it, but it’s worth it when Stan pulls back with a smile on his lips and says lovingly, “Do you have any idea how sexy you are, Bill?  Our beautiful boy.  Right, Mike?”</p>
<p>“So beautiful,” Mike agrees, kissing Bill on top of the head.  “So fucking <em>wet</em>.”</p>
<p>It makes Bill wince, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand.  “You don’t hate me, do you?”</p>
<p>“Hate you?” Stan cries incredulously, staring at him like he’s lost his mind.  “What part of any of this makes you think we hate you?  I came in my pants like a fucking teenager and you didn’t even have to <em>touch</em> me.  Bill!”</p>
<p>“I don’t know!”  Bill throws his hands helplessly in the air.  “I’m forty years old and I just peed my pants like a little kid!  All over my <em>boyfriend</em>!  So, sorry if I’m a little confused right now.”</p>
<p>“Baby, we <em>knew</em> that was going to happen,” Mike tells him, pulling Bill back to lean across his broad chest.  Despite it all, Bill snuggles in.  “Maybe we should have been clearer about that?  But we never expected you to hold it all the way through.  We knew how badly you had to go.  It’s okay.”</p>
<p>“And we fucking liked it,” Stan assures him.  “God, it was so hot getting to see you try so hard for us and then lose control like that!  But, more importantly, <em>you</em> liked it.”  He says it like a statement, not a question.  “Didn’t you.”</p>
<p>Bill’s face is so red he feels lightheaded.  “I did,” he admits and it’s true.  He <em>did</em> like it.  The intensity of a full bladder made everything feel like <em>more</em> and finally letting go had near about knocked him out it felt so good.  “It was—it was really good.”</p>
<p>“Good!” Stan says cheerfully like that settles it.  Not for the first time Bill wishes he could be as sexually uninhibited as Stan.  “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got an entryway to mop up and I think you two need a shower.”</p>
<p>Bill somehow manages to giggle.  “You’re gonna clean it up for me?”</p>
<p>“‘Course.  It was my fault, wasn’t it?”</p>
<p>“Good point.”  Bill ducks his head bashfully.  “Love you, Stanley.”</p>
<p>“Love you, too,” Stan promises, but then his nose wrinkles up.  “But I swear to God if those fancy Hollywood people mistreat you like that again, I’m gonna kick their asses.  Running you ragged and making you hold your pee all day…that’s fucking <em>ridiculous</em>.”</p>
<p>He’s still muttering to himself about <em>stuck up bitches </em>and <em>assholes who think they own people</em> as Bill and Mike disappear to the shower.  They quickly scrub the smell of urine away, then hold each other beneath the spray, slippery skin on slippery skin.  It’s nice – Bill loves Mike so fucking much.</p>
<p>“I love you so fucking much,” he says, pressing the words to the place just above his heart.  “I just want you to know that.”</p>
<p>“I’ve always loved you, Bill,” Mike says simply, sincerely.  Then, because he knows Bill down to the very heart of him, he adds, “And, listen, I know what we did tonight was…a lot.  Don’t let it break you.”</p>
<p>It’s soft and it’s full of love, but it’s an order.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They don’t talk about it the next morning.  Or the day after.  Or ever, really.  Bill isn’t sure if it’s for his sake or if it’s because Stan and Mike came to their senses and realized how gross it was.  That’s the more likely option, Bill thinks – they probably regret it.  God knows <em>he</em> does.  Every time he remembers sobbing and pissing all over Mike, his entire body goes hot with embarrassment.  It was fucked up and there’s no way around that.  Completely fucked up.</p>
<p>But what’s even <em>more</em> fucked up is the fact that he wants to do it again.</p>
<p>There’s something about being full-body overwhelmed that appeals to him, something about trying so hard for the men he loves until he literally can’t try a second longer.  They’d been so lovely, so gentle as they gave him permission to finally let go, not shying away from the mess and telling him how much they loved him.  How good he was for them.  God, he wants <em>more</em>.</p>
<p>But that’s nothing but a pipe dream, so he doesn’t bring it up.  He doesn’t want them to think he’s a freak.  Sure, they’ve handcuffed Mike on occasion and put Stan in pretty lace panties more than once, but this isn’t restraints and lingerie.  This is Bill pissing himself and getting off on it like a fucking weirdo. </p>
<p>He doesn’t plan to ever do anything about it, but he finds himself at home alone one Saturday and he thinks <em>maybe</em>.  Mike has a library event all day and Stan has a study group for his doctorate program because the man’s a fucking genius and what does Bill have?  A twinge in his bladder and nowhere to be. </p>
<p>“I <em>can’t</em>,” he tells himself sternly, alone in the kitchen pouring a bowl of cereal.  He jams a spoonful of Lucky Charms into his mouth, chewing them angrily.  “It’s fucked.”</p>
<p>But he never heads to the toilet, no matter how much the pressure in his abdomen grows.  By noon he’s sweating through his t-shirt and rubbing desperately at his dick through his jeans, trying to work up some level of hardness to help him hold it.  He’s fighting a losing battle, though, and soon enough he has to race to the bathroom with his hand clutching urgently between his legs or risk pissing on the couch.  He picks the former.</p>
<p>But instead of stepping up to the toilet and letting go, he lets out a loud moan that’s half pained arousal and half annoyance at himself for indulging in this sick game.  “<em>Fuck</em>,” he says aloud, shaking his head and scrambling into the shower, mind made up.  “I g-g-guess I’m doing this.”</p>
<p>His plan was to jerk off until he comes and then pee down the drain, but when he goes to touch himself, he physically can’t get hard.  His hands are trembling and his bladder is sending hot and cold flashes down his back in rapid succession, making him shiver and shake. </p>
<p>He has to go and he has to go <em>now</em> and his stupid fucking bladder isn’t going to take no for an answer.   </p>
<p>“No!” he cries anyway, lips quivering in distress when he pisses down his leg, a stream of hot liquid that scalds his skin from mid-thigh all the way to his knee.  He manages to cut it off just for a second, but the damage has been done.  It’s over.  His control breaks and his jeans flood with heat, the sound of his urine falling onto the shower floor almost deafening in his ears. </p>
<p>He bursts into tears.</p>
<p>“Shit, no, no, <em>no</em>!” he whines, his knees knocking together at the sudden relief.  He has to grab out for the wall to avoid falling on his face in his own mess.  His jeans are dark and sodden and sticking to his skin, which just makes him cry harder.  This was <em>not</em> how he wanted this to go – him standing here soaked <em>again</em> like a fucking toddler.  “God, what’s <em>wrong</em> with me?”</p>
<p>Apparently a lot because when he’s finally done wetting himself his dick is hard as a rock, straining against the zip of his pants.  He can’t even pretend to resist, jamming a hand inside and pumping at himself desperately, everything warm and wet and <em>so</em> fucked up.  When he comes, he falls to his knees, the smell of urine surrounding him as he breathes harshly through his nose.    </p>
<p>It’s a little while before he fully comes back to himself, curled up in the bottom of the shower and his jeans going cold and uncomfortable.  He whimpers, feeling small and overwhelmed and helpless, just like that night with Stan and Mike.  But unlike that night, this is the <em>bad</em> kind.  He’s alone and he’s cold and there’s no one holding him or loving him and he <em>hates</em> it.  He can’t stop crying.</p>
<p>He ends up throwing out his jeans and underwear, bundling them into a plastic bag to take to the dumpster out back.  Then he showers all his sins away, his tears mixing with the spray of the water on his face.  <em>Don’t let it break you</em>, Mike had said, but Bill’s not entirely sure it’s possible to break something that’s already broken.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill knows he shouldn’t do it.  He knows it’s what fucked up relationships are made of, but when Stan and Mike call for him to join them in the shower that night, he doesn’t answer.  He lies perfectly still on his side of the bed and holds his breath, trying his best not to make a sound.</p>
<p>“Must be asleep already,” Stan says, his voice a bit distorted through the falling water.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Mike agrees.  “Poor love’s wiped out.”  Then, “You want me to blow you?”</p>
<p>“God, <em>yeah</em>, Mikey.  Let’s put down a towel, though, so you don’t hurt your knees.”</p>
<p>Bill’s skin goes hot as he listens to Stan’s low moans and Mike’s hummed encouragement, dick stiffening up in his sleep pants.  Half of him wants to spring out of bed and race to the en suite so he can watch, but the other half of him is sick at the thought of returning to the scene of the crime.  He’d spent a good twenty minutes scrubbing the smell of piss out of the shower, but it did nothing to wash off the slimy layer of embarrassment that clings to every inch of his body.  He knows intellectually that there’s nothing to give him away, but he’s still terrified that his boyfriends will take one look at him and know what he did.</p>
<p>So he turns his back to the bathroom, squeezes his eyes shut, and pretends to sleep.  He studiously does <em>not</em> touch his aching dick, not even when Stan comes with a cry of Mike’s name and Mike follows soon after. </p>
<p>In a while, the bed jostles as Stan and Mike climb in behind Bill’s back and Bill carefully keeps his breathing slow and even.  He feels a pair of lips press a kiss to his shoulder and another to the top of his head, followed by a quiet, “G’night, Bill,” from Mike.</p>
<p>“Love you, baby,” Stan says sleepily.  Bill hates himself for not answering.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill has always been a creature of habit – once he does something once it’s easy for him to fall into a pattern.  When he was little it was silly stuff like pouring the milk before the cereal or never using Silver’s kickstand, but now that he’s older it’s bigger things like people pleasing and pissing himself and turning his boyfriends down for sex. </p>
<p><em>God</em>, he shouldn’t do it.  But he does.</p>
<p>He’s just so fucking <em>embarrassed</em> is the thing.  Every time they try to initiate something all he can think about is what a fool he’d made of himself the last time they’d slept together.  He knows Stan and Mike are thinking about it, too – how could they not?  Bill let himself do something fucked up a total of <em>one</em> time and now he’ll never be able to look at sex the same way again.</p>
<p>“You look so fucking sexy in that jacket,” Stan tells him one day, practically purring into his ear.  Bill shivers.  “How about you let me take it off you, yeah?  And everything else, too.”</p>
<p>“Stanny—”</p>
<p>“We can do whatever you want.  Wanna fuck me?  Get all that tension out?  I know they’ve been working you hard as hell on that movie set.”  Stan’s brown eyes are brimming with heat and affection.</p>
<p>The words parallel much too closely to what Stan had said that fateful day, eyes wide as he saw the fullness of Bill’s bladder, and any desire Bill might have felt disappears in an instant. </p>
<p>“Stanny,” he tries again, taking a step away from his boyfriend and hoping it reads as exhaustion rather than rejection.  The last thing he wants to do is hurt Stan, but he can’t have sex right now.  He just can’t.  “I love you so much, but I’m ready to drop, baby.  They’ve got me rewriting the ending again and it’s driving me <em>nuts</em> and I just—I need to sleep it all off, you know?  I can barely keep my eyes open.”</p>
<p>It’s a lie – for the first time, a director has loved his original ending – and Bill feels awful for telling it, but luckily it does the trick.  “Oh sure, Billy,” Stan says, lip poked out in a sympathetic pout.  He reaches over to smudge a knuckle against Bill’s cheek.  “I get it.  Fucking Hollywood bigwigs, huh?”  Then he laughs.  “Well, this ass is yours whenever you want it!  Rain check.” </p>
<p>With that he spins around, goofily slaps his own ass, and leaves Bill alone in the bedroom to turn in for the night.  He lies awake for hours, staring at the ceiling feeling guilty.</p>
<p>It goes on like that for days, Bill expertly ducking his boyfriends’ affections and feeling sicker and sicker about it.  He loves them, <em>fuck</em> does he love them, but he just can’t push past the red hot humiliation that lives in his brain.  He’s way past broken now – <em>smashed into smithereens</em> is more like it.</p>
<p>“Are we okay?” Mike finally asks him about two weeks later.  His voice is quiet and gentle, but sad.  His mouth is downturned, like a gigantic kicked puppy.  “I mean, you’re okay with us, right, Bill?”</p>
<p>Bill forces a smile.  None of this is Mike’s fault.  He shouldn’t have to suffer.  “Of course we are.”</p>
<p>“…Okay.”  Mike doesn’t sound convinced, put he pulls Bill toward him anyway, pressing the loveliest, most gentle kiss to his lips.  Bill kind of wants to cry.  Instead of doing so, he latches onto Mike’s strong shoulders with his hands, kissing back with as much passion as he can muster.  Kissing he can do, especially if it makes the sad look leave Mike’s face. </p>
<p>Kissing is good.</p>
<p>They make out on the couch like teenagers for God knows how long, Bill’s hands trembling with how much he missed this.  But then Mike’s hands find his fly and pop the button and everything comes crashing down.  He wrenches away a lot more emphatically than he means to, eyes wild and heart racing. </p>
<p>“Um,” he says stupidly, red-faced.  “Um, don’t.”</p>
<p>Mike holds his hands up, palms out, like a promise that he means no harm.  “Okay, okay, sorry, Big Bill,” he says, words breathless and face stricken.  He looks absolutely <em>crushed</em> and Bill wants nothing more than to go jump off a bridge or something.  “I just thought—I’m sorry.  I must’ve read the situation wrong.  I’m so sorry…I’ll ask next time, okay?”</p>
<p>That almost does it.  The thought of Mike blaming <em>himself</em> for this fucked up situation almost does it, but in the end Bill’s too chicken to fix it.  So he just leaves a kiss on Mike’s mouth, a whispered <em>I love you, Mikey </em>in his ear, and the fragmented remains of his relationship on the sofa. </p>
<p>“What the fuck is wrong with me?” he seethes as he’s showering off before bed.  “Get a fucking grip, man!”</p>
<p>It’s easier said than done, as always.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p> </p>
<p>For all that Stan, Mike, and Bill are not-so-secret romantics, they don’t go on dates very often.  Their idea of a date usually involves watching a movie at home and then heading to the bedroom, but after weeks of the strange, awkward energy growing between them all – which is all Bill’s own fucking fault, of course, just like everything always is – his boyfriends decide it’s time to try something new.</p>
<p>They pull out all the stops: dinner, a movie, and then a romantic walk through downtown L.A. in the moonlit darkness. </p>
<p>The restaurant is fancy as hell, multiple forks and aged fine wine and all, but Mike and Stan make sure to pay for it, even though Bill has more money than both of them combined.  It makes him feel guilty – he knows they’re doing all this because they’re trying to right their footing with him. </p>
<p>“It’s not your fault!” he wants to shout at the top of his lungs, but he doesn’t, of course.  “I’m just fucked up!”</p>
<p>The movie is exactly his speed, too, with lots of scares and reasons to hide behind his hands.  At one of the bloodier scenes Stan flinches and burrows his face into Bill’s shoulder, making Bill shudder, butterflies flapping their wings in his stomach.  He wraps an arm around Stan, pulling him in closer and encouraging him to stay.  Stay he does, tucked into Bill’s side for the rest of the movie and giving him a brilliant, pleased smile when the credits finally roll.  It only serves to make Bill feel worse.</p>
<p>The walk is absolutely lovely – Bill in the middle, hand-in-hand with the two people he loves most in the world.  Or, at least, it would be lovely if Mike and Stan didn’t keep sending him nervous, tentative glances out of the corners of their eyes and if Bill wasn’t right back where he started with this stupid fucking thing.  He has to pee.  Badly.  And there is no way in hell he’s going to bring it up, not after what happened last time. </p>
<p>So he grits his teeth and bears it.</p>
<p>His boyfriends notice that he’s gone rigid and cold, exchanging looks over his head that they can’t possibly expect him to miss.  He’s short, but he’s not fucking <em>miniscule</em>.  It’d probably annoy him more if he weren’t in so much pain.  All the enjoyment has been sapped out of the evening…he just wants to get home.</p>
<p>Luckily, they hail a taxi after not too long, piling into the backseat like it’s a fucking clown car.  It usually has Bill giggling into the palms of his hands to see gigantic Mike with his knees practically up to his nose because he insists on sitting with them in the too-tight space, but this time Bill can barely breathe let alone laugh.  He’s got to hold stock-still or he’s going to piss in the back of this taxi.</p>
<p>What a juicy bit of celeb gossip <em>that</em> would be.  William Denbrough, renowned author and screenwriter, wets himself in someone else’s car because he’s too embarrassed to tell his own damn boyfriends he needs to go.  God.</p>
<p>“What did’ya think of the movie?” Stan asks after a little bit, filling the awkward silence.  “I thought it was pretty fucking intense, but you’ve always liked that kind of stuff.”</p>
<p>“It was good,” Bill says, trying to keep the strain out of his voice.  Honestly, he’s so far gone at this point that he can’t even remember what they watched.  “Thanks, you guys.”</p>
<p>Mike’s arm is warm when he slings it around Bill’s shoulders, Bill biting back a gasp of discomfort when his boyfriend pulls him against his body for an affectionate squeeze.  He desperately presses his thighs together, praying to anyone listening that he’ll be able to hold it all in.  “Anything for you, Big Bill,” Mike says, his deep voice a pleasant rumble in his chest.  “We just want you to know that we love you.”</p>
<p>“I love you, too,” Bill forces out, sweat beginning to drip down his back.  He means it with all of his heart – there’s no one on earth Bill loves more than Mike and Stan – but the words lose their credibility when he has to wince away, a jolt of urgency shooting through his trembling body.</p>
<p>They don’t talk after that.</p>
<p>Rushing into the house with his hand already on his belt is the worst kind of déjà vu and Bill’s whole body burns hot with humiliation.  And, because history is always destined to repeat itself, he doesn’t get a chance to run straight to the bathroom this time, either.</p>
<p>No, this time Stan reads it in the stiffness of his back and the knock-kneed clumsiness of his gait and says, a hesitant smile pulling at one corner of his lips, “Oh, did you hold it for us again?” </p>
<p>Bill’s tired and he’s in <em>pain</em> and he’s embarrassed and, without warning, he bursts into tears.  “Please, don’t make fun of me!” he cries, burying his red face in his hands.  “Just—just I need you not to make fun of me!”</p>
<p>Stan flinches back like he’s been slapped.  “Sweetheart, I’m not making fun of you!” he promises, looking absolutely baffled by the very idea.  Bill just cries harder, feeling stupider and stupider by the second.  “I just thought—okay, run along to the bathroom!  I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>Bill does as he’s told, jamming a hand between his thighs and hanging on for dear life.  The last thing he hears before he slams the door behind him is Mike calling, voice gentle and steady as always, “You’re okay, Billy.”</p>
<p>But Bill is the <em>farthest</em> thing from okay because when he finally scuttles over to the toilet, body shaking with how desperately he needs it, he…doesn’t go.  He keeps holding it.  It’s weird and it’s so fucked up, but despite his tears and embarrassment he isn’t sure he even <em>wants</em> to go.  Not without Mike and Stan.  That familiar, overwhelming feeling of helplessness is back and suddenly he needs his boyfriends so badly it aches. </p>
<p>Like they can read his mind, there’s a soft rap of knuckles on the bathroom door. </p>
<p>“Baby?”  It’s Mike.</p>
<p>“Come in,” Bill whimpers miserably, marching in place like some little kid doing a potty dance.  His hand is still clenched between his legs.  He feels small.</p>
<p>“Baby,” Mike says again when he enters the room, eyebrows coming together in concern as he takes in the scene before him.  Bill knows he looks like an absolute mess – his reflection in the mirror is streaked with tears, snot, and spit.  “What are you doing?”</p>
<p>Bill squeezes his eyes shut.  It’s now or never.  “I want you to tell me to hold it,” he whispers, ashamed.  “I want you to tell me to hold it and then tell me when to let go.”</p>
<p>The room is silent for a few heart-stopping seconds.  Bill’s terrified that when he opens his eyes his boyfriends will be gone, racing from the house in disgust.  <em>Leaving</em> him.  But then Mike says, just as quiet as Bill, “Okay, we can do that.”</p>
<p>Bill’s eyes fly open.  He’s so surprised, he stops crying instantly.  “We can?”</p>
<p>“Of course,” Stan says, speaking up for the first time.  He has his take-charge voice on and it settles something within Bill, makes him feel like maybe this is alright.  Like maybe everything isn’t as fucked up as it seems.  Then his boyfriend crosses the room to run comforting hands over Bill’s shaking shoulders and down his arms.  It feels so lovely, so wonderful that Bill stumbles forward a little, Stan tightening his grip to keep him from falling over.  “How about we at least put the toilet seat up so you’re ready, yeah?” </p>
<p>In a moment of courage, Bill shakes his head and asks for what he really wants, what he’s wanted this whole time even when he refused to admit it to himself: “Can I do it in my pants?”</p>
<p>Stan lets out a hissing breath at the same time as Mike moans from the doorway, staggering back and catching himself on the wooden frame.  His chest is already heaving.  “God, <em>yeah</em>, you can do it in your pants,” Stan says tremulously.  “<em>Fuck</em>.  Let’s get in the shower…now, now, <em>now</em>!”</p>
<p>They scramble into the gigantic shower, tucking themselves behind the glass wall and settling onto the tile floor.  Mike puts his back against the wall and then Stan sits in the V of his legs, making grabby hands at Bill who has to move much, much slower, whimpering as a veritable ocean of pee sloshes around in his bladder.  It’s only through sheer iron willpower and a red hot desire to please his boyfriends that he’s managed to hang on this long.  He has to fucking <em>go</em>.</p>
<p>“I can’t hold it much longer,” he whines, eyes wet with tears.  “I’ll t-t-try really hard for you, but it won’t be long at all.  Where do you want me?”</p>
<p>Stan pats his thighs.  “Come straddle my lap, love,” he says and the unabashed <em>care</em> etched into his voice, his face, his eyes takes Bill’s breath away.  He scuttles to do as he’s told, crying out when he feels the first surge of wetness soak into his underwear.  He clamps down hard, refusing to lose control before he’s given permission.  “And you don’t need to worry about disappointing us, okay?” Stan goes on.  “You’ve been doing so <em>well</em>, baby, holding it so long!  Just let us take care of you.”</p>
<p>Mike’s hands find Bill’s burning cheeks, cupping them.  “You were so beautiful for me last time, Bill…do you think you can do it for Stan this time?”</p>
<p>“Y-Yeah.”</p>
<p>“That’s so good, sweetheart!  <em>So</em> good.  Now how about you give us a kiss.”   </p>
<p>Full-body shuddering, Bill obeys, leaning in to sloppily press his lips against Stan’s, all finesse out the window in his desperation.  Stan doesn’t seem to mind, moaning against Bill’s mouth and pushing his tongue inside, kissing him hungrily like he hasn’t in weeks.  Then Bill shifts upward to kiss Mike over Stan’s shoulder, burying his fingers into the back of Mike’s coarse hair.  When Mike nibbles on Bill’s bottom lip, the shock of it causes his bladder to let go and Bill yanks away with a gasp.</p>
<p>“It’s coming out!” he cries, panicked.  He manages to cut off the flow, but just barely.  “Oh god, I—I’m sorry, I have to pee so bad!</p>
<p>“Don’t say sorry,” Mike murmurs, pulling Bill back in to take up where they left off.  He wants his fair share.  The words get lost between Bill’s lips.  “If you need to let go, let go, honey.”</p>
<p>Oh <em>god</em> does he need to.  He needs to, he needs to, he needs to.  But before he can, he rasps out through tears, “You guys really want it?  You’re not just—for me, right?”  He sniffs hard, squirming where he’s hovering over Stan’s thighs and trembling helplessly.</p>
<p> “Do you feel how hard Stan is for you?” Mike points out, gently pushing Bill down by the shoulders so he settles into Stan’s lap, his erection perfectly lining up with the crack of Bill’s ass and making them both moan out loud.  Stan’s hands fly up to cling to Bill’s waist.  “And I am, too.  We wanted it last time and we want it this time, too!  Do you have any idea how fucking gorgeous you are?”</p>
<p>“You’re perfect,” Stan groans, rubbing his hands up and down Bill’s thighs.  “Now let go, baby…get me wet.”</p>
<p>Bill literally couldn’t hold it a second longer even if he wanted to and with a high-pitched whine that echoes in the glass shower stall, he finally stops trying.  He sobs as piss soaks through his jeans and onto Stan’s lap, burying his face in Stan’s shoulder to hide from the world.  Stan is murmuring <em>oh god, baby, oh god!</em> as Mike presses kiss after kiss to the top of Bill’s head and it feels…good.  It feels <em>wonderful</em>.  It feels like everything he hoped it would be, being held together by the men he loves and being loved back. </p>
<p>When he’s finally finished, there’s a huge puddle on the shower floor and Stan is moving his hips in little circles against Bill’s ass.  “Gonna come,” he chokes out so quickly it’s got to be a new record.  He’s completely unembarrassed by it, shoving a hand down Bill’s sopping wet jeans to stroke at him, hand steady even when he shoots off.  Bill follows swiftly after, panting for breath.</p>
<p>“Against Stan’s ass, love,” Bill tells Mike once he finds his voice again, chancing an order of his own.  Mike groans in response, which is a good sign.  “Come on, you can do it…come for us, Mikey.”</p>
<p>“<em>Shit</em>,” Mike grits out, eyes squeezed shut as he grinds against Stan, arms wrapped around his torso.  Stan moves with him, pushing back as best he can, and then Mike comes, too, with a beautiful cry.  Bill scrambles forward to press his lips to Mike’s, letting his boyfriend breathe harshly against his mouth until he’s able to kiss back.</p>
<p>They toss their wet clothes into a laundry basket – even Mike’s pant legs are wet from the excess spill – and turn the shower on, cleaning each other up with soap and exchanging kisses all around.  Unlike last time, all Bill feels is relief, both physical and emotional.  His boyfriends are <em>here</em>, his boyfriends <em>love </em>him, his boyfriends think he’s <em>sexy</em>, and he doesn’t have to pull away from them anymore.  He can fix what’s been broken. </p>
<p>Though Bill’s starting to realize that it was never really broken in the first place.</p>
<p>“Missed you,” he whispers shakily, putting an arm around both Stan and Mike’s waists and pulling them in so he can feel their clean, wet skin on every inch of his.  “Always want to be with you.”</p>
<p>Mike and Stan are both suspiciously wet-eyed when they curl into him, surrounding him with more love and warmth than he knows what to do with.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They’re lying in bed together that night, Bill in the middle, when he finally says what’s been on the tip of his tongue for what feels like ages: “I’m really sorry, guys.  For hurting you.”</p>
<p>Stan and Mike instinctively roll closer to him, slinging their arms over his middle and hugging him the best they can.  “You’re forgiven,” Mike says easily, lips moving against Bill’s bare shoulder.  Stan hums in agreement.  “You’re <em>always</em> forgiven.  But can you tell us what all of that was about?”</p>
<p>Trying his best to fight off a full-body blush, Bill presses the heels of his hands into his eye sockets.  “I don’t know, we did that <em>thing</em>—you know—and no one brought it up again so I thought you guys were disgusted with me.  I thought maybe you regretted it?  And that mortified me so much I couldn’t stand it!  So I just…pulled away.”  Bill squirms in the bed, stomach fluttering with nerves.  “I didn’t want you to think I was fucked up.”</p>
<p>“If you’re fucked up, we are, too,” Stan points out matter-of-factly.  Then he pats Bill’s stomach over the duvet.  “But you’re <em>not</em> fucked up, for the record.  If it feels good to you, how bad can it be?”</p>
<p>Bill hopes to be as casually sure of things as Stan one day.  He thinks it’d solve a lot of his problems. </p>
<p>“But we really should have discussed it with you after the fact,” Mike admits, sounding sheepish.  “We didn’t want to embarrass you, but I can see now that it just made things worse.  We’re really sorry about that, Big Bill.  We shouldn’t have left you to wonder.”</p>
<p>Before Bill can open his mouth to protest the apology – how did this situation get reversed so quickly? – Stan promises, “We’ll do better on the communication front, okay?  Especially about sexual stuff.  But that means you have to, too.  You can always ask for things, alright?  I know that you – and this one! –”  He breaks into a grin and reaches across Bill’s body to smack Mike gently on the shoulder, dark eyes full of affection.  “—struggle with that, but you don’t have to.  <em>Always</em> tell us what you want.”</p>
<p>“<em>Please</em>,” Mike adds adamantly.  “Because you really scared us there for a while, baby, pulling away from us like you did.  Let’s not do that again.”</p>
<p>“I won’t!  I promise,” Bill says decisively, body on fire with how much he loves them.  He’s not sure what he did to deserve Mike and Stan – probably nothing – but he’s so, so grateful to have them.  He can’t keep himself from grinning like an absolute fool, so wide his mouth hurts.  “You know what I want right now?”</p>
<p>“Oh <em>yes</em>, tell me!” Stan begs.</p>
<p>“Anything, love,” Mike adds.</p>
<p>“I want you to kiss me.”</p>
<p>“Now we’re talking!” Mike laughs, swooping down to do as he’s told, his mouth warm and wet and so fucking lovely against Bill’s.  Bill can’t help but squeak, a wave of <em>happy happy happy</em> washing over him.  Then Stan’s lips replace Mike’s, kissing him so thoroughly Bill feels a little bit like he’s going to pass out. </p>
<p>“God, I love you guys,” Bill gasps out once they’ve finally pulled away, flopping back down on either side of him.  “So fucking much!” </p>
<p>Mike and Stan are laughing breathlessly, happiness emanating from every inch of their bodies, and it’s all Bill’s fucking fault.  Most things are, Bill knows, but this time he couldn’t be more proud of it.</p>
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